injustice poems

The Dogs Slip out Again | Tricia Knoll

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That black and white TV, police dogs,
night sticks, and fire hoses. 1963.
Birmingham scared this child viewer.

Now with the remote in my hand,
in full-color black dogs pull
on leashes held by corporate security.

Up the chain of command someone cried
havoc at the oil fields. Let loose
corporate dogs to draw blood

for black oil money. Scare
the people with treaty rights.
Tell them oil drives, not ancient bones,

nor sacred waters, nor wind prayers.
Only rights of passage
of petroleum.

Handlers ignore the bones
dogs might understand.
People stand up, hope

never to be bitten again.

More at http://triciaknoll.com.

Dictator | Osatogbe Shola

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Looking at the serpent, trying to dissolve the conscience of a few in turpentine.
Trying to quarantine the consciousness of many on the eve of Valentine.
Wipe the smirk off the face of the nobodies.
Empower the busy bodies elevating them to becoming somebodies.
Play a discordant tune, horde and hurt them.
Burn bridges and don’t build bridges.
Synergize with the outlaws as well become a law unto yourself.

Regard the law but disregard the Rule of Law.
Many a few has followed suit in the concrete jungle taking the route of jungle justice.
The judicial system is not trusted.
In a “lawless” society lawlessness is bound to abound.

In the full glare of the international community remove your garb and fight dirty.
Smoke them out, round up the dissenters and light them up smoking them (one after the other) like a cigar.
The egos of the egoistical gold digger getting bigger.
His shenangians are becoming more obvious, oblivious of the fact that the international community have a hawk view.
Now all can see that he is just a spoilt brat lacking tact.
Wack is his art so his displays will never be taken to heart.
His Achilles hill is that he surrounded himself with praise singers. Gullible as he was they ultimately got his finger burnt. He was once adept at pointing accusing fingers- deflecting attention.
Back then he was always finger licking; human right abuses was his hors d’oeuvres.
Now he must eat the humble pie.

No Justice | Ndifreke George

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If justice is a child
A bastard he is
No father is disciplined
No mother is chaste
If justice is a child
He is sure an orphan
No father can mentor
No mother can deliver

Capital Steps | Judy Moskowitz

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Let me walk you
down the long
dark hallway
where voices are muffled
caught in their throat
diminishing a human being
crushing faith with a warning
let me walk you
up the hill where the powerful
flex their muscles
wearing thousand dollar suits
alligator shoes
above suspicion
let me walk you
through a conscience
in a deep state of sleep
undressed for the world to see
a time bomb exploding
and the world goes round and round

Social Injustice | J.K. Durick

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When does something like this end?
When will it lose its prominent place

In the list of things we see around us
Hear about, know from experience

Pass on the street, we read about in
The newspapers we have left to read

Witness on the evening news in
Between ads for the latest meds to help

Us along, make things easier to take?
When will we have better things to think

About, to write about, our better selves,
The better angels of our nature coming

Forward to put an end to some, if not all
Of things like this – that’s when.

Baltimore’s Son, Freddie Gray | Najwa Kareem

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Would you have guessed you’d be next?
Perhaps you said so to someone close once in a text. Your suspicions concerning the police kept you running.
Did you ever consider that maybe you were too stunning?
That maybe your continuous smile was too bright.
That maybe your face was filled with too much light.
That maybe your comings and goings, your daily visits to Mom were too much.
That perhaps your happy, cheerful, respectful demeanor could reach out and touch.
That maybe a look into your eyes, they were blinded by the sun.
That surely at the ripe age of 25, your life would be done.
An act of racism I ask?
An act of brutality I ask?
An act of inhumanity I ask?
An act of injustice I ask?
Where in police school does one learn that a young black man standing on the street makes him a suspect?
Where in police school does one learn wearing Prada makes you a
prospective criminal?
Where in police school does one learn that having a nickname Pepper
makes one a target?
Where in police school does one learn that a citizen’s lead
poisoning makes him a magnet for a 6 police officer raid?
Where in police school does one learn that having no knowledge of a
man carrying a knife makes him the next chase?
Where in police school does one learn that being a human officer
entitles one to act unjustly against a human person?
Who are you or I to say because he couldn’t read as well as you or I his life didn’t matter?
Who are you or I to say because Freddie lived like many in low-income housing he didn’t deserve a chance at a better life?
Who are you or I to say because he had been arrested for drug
possession in the past he didn’t deserve to live out his dream?
Who are you or I to say because he liked to sing and make others laugh he didn’t deserve a life of dignity?
Who are you or I to say he didn’t have the right to continue
visiting his dear Mother, Mrs. Gloria Darden?
Who are you or I to say he shouldn’t have had the privilege to
continue walking Baltimore’s streets?
Now Freddie our hearts grieve your loss.
Now Freddie my heart grieves your uncalled-for death.
Now Freddie your prideful city has simmered down but it still feels
the pain.
Now Freddie my warmest sympathy to you, your family, your friends,
your supporters, and the city of Baltimore.

Hunted Down | Krushna Chandra Mishra

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For how many years since the first,
how many times in how many ways,
hunted down in the strangest conditions
when secured most I have always felt,
believing in companies and kinship
to my utter surprise and to my deafened wit
when there has come no proper answer
I have just learnt to wait in silence
for a just world’s voice to descend,
to hold me by hand with consolation
reassuring me that no more, and it is
no more, in the future anything the like of
the present humiliation would
be repeated ever and in great
patience since then always like now
I become silent to hear several times repeated
the same drab voices that in shame
drown my head as I feel if again
I should turn to you for help, support
or care or consolation once for sure
I know nothing like justice shall yield
in this vast blind universe of words.

Jeopardy | Daginne Aignend

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When I grasp
a hand full of bitterness
Larded with
profound frustration
and
spice it with
some irascible anger
I make myself
a hazardous bomb.
Splinters of injustice
followed by
shards of hatred
will fiercely strike.
Thousands of innocent victims
shall be afflicted.
A prevention is available
for this kind of explosive
It’s called ‘Tolerance’.

Inequity | Ananya S. Guha

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And now leaves sprinkle
on dust
lovers play with morning
kisses of emerald dew
shadows lengthen
in dank crowded
shops
market places are shrouded
with omen
crows do the somersault
as a nation progresses
into inequity.

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